I was reading some posts over on the local mommies board that I belong to(yes, I still gag when I hear the word “mommies”), and I came across a young mom who was asking advice about leaving her husband.
She said that her marriage is not what she thought it would be and that she wants to have a chance to find someone else, someone who is more attentive to her and is more romantic.
I paused, seriously considering if I should reply.
I considered: I don’t actually know this girl and being “more attentive to me” might be code for “stop sleeping around with every woman that he meets at the titty bar” or “admit he’s gay.”
“More romantic” could possibly mean “stop beating the shit out of me and the kids” or “stop spending all our grocery money on booze.”
Besides, she was asking about how to leave him, not if she should.
So, I clicked on out of there before I opened by big ol’ mouth and inserted one or both of my feet.
But, now that I’m safely back on my blog, where I say what I think, I’m here to tell you: romance is overrated.
We don’t live in a chick flick where there are grand sweeping gestures of romance on a continuous basis.
This isn’t some Nicholas Sparks novel where everyone weeps at the beauty of the love between a couple.
Before you go get all huffy and tell me all about the romance in your life, let me clarify a bit.
I DO love my Hubs. He loves me.
And we do romantic things for each other.
They have just changed as our family has grown.
He did used to do big sweepingly romantic things for me.
Most of the time I laughed at him and told him he was a big cheeseball, though I did appreciate them.
But, flowers, gifts, spontaneous trips, love letters, and other such romantic gestures have been replaced by more practical things.
It’s romantic to me that Hubs chooses to come home every night to a house full of children under the spell of the witching hour and a wife who is exhausted. Because no one is making him.
That he works his ass off to provide for us is romantic as hell to me.
He’s held my hair as I puked my guts out(morning sickness people, I’ve told you, I’m not really a lush).
He lets me fall asleep leaning on his shoulder, even though it means that his shoulder will be soaked through with my drool.
I’ll even take that he doesn’t always fluff the comforter after he farts, as romance.
It might sound boring.
And he does still occasionally throw in a big romantic gesture every now and then.
But, the real romance to me is knowing that I have a husband who will always be there for me and the kids. Who loves us through our worst days and moods. Who is a true friend to me. Whom I don’t worry that he’ll ever leave us- we’re in this for the long haul.
Really, anyone can be romantic in the beginning of a relationship. It’s time that is the test for how a relationship really is. I believe that love is a decision and that we’d never stay with anyone if we left every time the romance seemed to fade.
Romantic comedies and novels…well, they can suck it. I have my own version of happily-ever-after here.